


Dish best served late

by Septdeneuf



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septdeneuf/pseuds/Septdeneuf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Badly injured, Felix survives the fall and beings plotting his revenge. Too bad he doesn't get there in time to exact it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dish best served late

_Ha! Look whose idea wasn't so foolish after all!,_ was Felix's first thought upon regaining consciousness. 

Back when they'd first gotten their Charon Industries made armor enhancements, Felix had realized that running the standard medical suite would take up too much energy to run the shield at peak efficiency. So he'd had to compromise on the boring stuff to get the badass stuff just the way he liked it. 

Locus had scoffed at him, told him that disabling the medical suite altogether would've been a more sensible choice rather than program in that ridiculous subroutine, but Felix had argued that having a function to inject pure adrenaline directly into his heart should it ever stop was fucking awesome, and thus, he was doing it. 

And look where he was now! There were fucking clouds between him and the top of that shitty tower,, and here he was right as rain. If that rain was coughing up blood. Still, though, having every breath hurt because there were probably more than a few broken ribs poking into his lungs was still a step up from just being a smear on the floor. 

So much for, _Just because it worked in pulp fiction, it won't work in reality._

Honestly the whole thing was making Felix feel rather pleased with himself. 

Or it would've, if it weren't tainted with the knowledge that his super awesome last resort had even been necessary. And because of the fucking Sim Troopers at that. 

And Locus. 

Oh fucking Locus. 

The adrenaline fading from his system was step by step being replaced with the intense heat of fury. The same sensation that had driven him to try to kill the Sim Troopers even when it was clear that Hargrove's little murder scheme had failed. But more. 

Locus betraying him wasn't exactly a surprise. Felix had been prepared for that for the longest time, making contingency plans all over even if he'd always been left with the nagging doubt that if it came down to a one on one confrontation between them, he just didn't know who would win. 

But every plan, every manipulation had been based on the fact that fundamentally Felix understood Locus. He knew the exact buttons to push, knew all the ways his brain was messed up and how to use them. And he'd always known that there were plenty of things that could turn Locus against him, chief of all being ordered to, which was why Felix liked to cultivate the image that he was the only one who could handle the green lunatic, and keep him in check. Or maybe a dispute about a reward, which was why Felix made sure that everything they were paid got distributed equally to the dot. 

There were other things that Felix had expected to turn Locus against him. Lots of them, in fact. 

But not wanting to kill people anymore? Had never even crossed Felix's mind. 

Like what the fuck? Psycho killer suddenly realizes killing is wrong and thus helps a group of assholes kill his partner? Felix would laugh, except he didn't want to cause his lungs to be filled with more blood than they already probably were. 

Felix had always prided himself as being the expert on all things Locus. The only one who understood him well enough to use him to his advantage at all times. He'd seen him at his best and at his worst, and he never thought he'd have the capability to change. 

It was the fucking Reds and Blues' fault. And Wash's. Mostly Wash, probably, what with the weird man crush Locus had developed for the yellow striped Freelancer almost instantly. Locus' odd obsession with understanding the guy had probably triggered this whole mess. Looked like whatever he'd seen in Wash's broken fucking brain had resonated in his own, and taught him valuable life lessons about goodness and the value of human life and what the fuck ever other garbage. It made Felix want to puke. Or maybe the concussion he doubtlessly had was to blame for that. 

One thing was clear, though.

They would pay for this. All of these fucking assholes. The reds and blues first, and then Locus. He'd take his sweet time with Locus, because damn it all, this fucking betrayal was so big, the revenge needed some serious planning. 

First, Felix needed to get himself back in working order though. Big revenge schemes weren't easily executed with more broken than intact bones. 

Oh but the _execution_ was going to be magnificient. 

———

It took longer for Felix to recover to the point that he could move without his injuries being super obvious than he would've liked. And, well, even though he could sort of move again, recovered was a strong word. Falling off a tower and then patching yourself up without any medical professional on hand and just giving yourself two weeks before trying to get to work on your revenge scheme may not have been the smartest idea. 

But he was just running a reconnaissance mission here. He'd only killed one New Republic soldier so far, and he wasn't planning on killing anyone else today. He just needed the guy's armor to blend in because his own armor was too recognizable and also pretty fucked up from that fall. 

Tucker was not getting credit for the idea, though, it was still fucking stupid. It just happened that Felix's enemies were fucking stupid, too, so it all came together nicely. 

The stupid tan and green armor annoyed Felix to no end, even though, objectively seen, the fit wasn't actually all that different from his signature armor. Despite all the outward differences, all of it was UNSC armor and they were all manufactured to a certain standard. But Felix just liked looking like himself more, liked his own helmet because of how evil it looked when tilted a certain way. He hadn't been able to get the dents out of it yet, and he hated that. 

There was a huge crowd at the United Army of Chorus's new headquarters, a piece of shit old base that had been abandoned before but was apparently deemed the next best thing after Armonia. The fact that there even was a United Army of Chorus annoyed Felix, too. Not seeing through Tucker's plan and playing right into it with his talking was one of the things Locus just hadn't stopped blaming it for, and if Felix was completely honest, which wasn't exactly his favorite thing to do, the big green asshole had a point on that. 

It didn't take a long time of listening to the chatter to find out that apparently there was a memorial today for all the people lost in the final battle against Charon. Doyle's name was thrown around a lot, about his heroic sacrifice, and wasn't that just the funniest thing ever? Biggest coward of the planet remembered as a fearless hero. Idiot had probably shit his pants before blowing up the fucking reactor, Felix was willing to bet good money on that. 

He had no problem finding the place where the memorial was being held, and managed to find a place at the very edge of the packed hall, near the stage, so he could look at the people in the first row. Kimball was on stage, talking about what an inspiration Donald Doyle was, and how he'd be missed, and it was all Felix could do to stop himself from laughing out loud, because he'd heard so many tirades of hers about how Doyle was the worst person of all time, and how his existence was one of the things that had completely ruined the planet. 

Not everyone was wearing their helmets, and it didn't take Felix long to spot some familiar faces. Jensen was in the third row, crying on Palomo's shoulder. Palomo was crying just as much, except a lot uglier. Jensen would probably have to wash his snot out of her hair at the end of the day. 

Andersmith was sitting next to them, looking mostly stoic except for his red rimmed eyes. Bitters was to his right, looking like he was about ready to bolt if not for the sea of people all around him. 

Weird. Felix hadn't expected any of the New Republic soldiers to be that broken up about Doyle's death. Hadn't those armies hated each other just a few months ago? 

Then again, the memorial was for everyone had died, so who knew who they were really crying for. 

"As you all know, Donald Doyle was not the only one to sacrifice himself for the salvation of our planet. And as much as it pains me to think of their loss, I want us all to honor the memory of the Reds and and the Blues. They came to our world as outsiders with no stake in our conflict, and not only brought all of us together, but even gave their lives for ours. We owe them everything, they saved all of us from certain destruction, and the fact that we were unable to save them in turn, is my biggest regret." 

Oh. 

So that's why they were crying. 

Also explained the colorful banners hung up behind Kimball. They'd seemed a bit inappropriate for a funeral, but Felix had been to busy trying to slip to the front unnoticed to really pay attention to them. Blue, Aqua, Purple, Red, Brown, Maroon, Pink, Orange. Well not really orange, it was more like yellow, Felix's armor was orange, Grif had just been deluding himself, but still. 

Felix had heard that the Reds and Blues had somehow fought against Hargrove when he'd been trying to recover, but he hadn't heard of the outcome, because he'd had other stuff on his mind at the time. 

So they were fucking dead, then. 

Felix had never personally seen the Freelancers without their helmets, but he'd seen their pictures in the files Hargrove had given them, so he had no problem picking out Wash and Carolina in the first row. Carolina was holding something, maybe a dog tag or a computer chip or something, cradling it like it was something precious. Like it was the only thing holding her together, and she'd crumble if she lost its support. Seeing that made Felix want to grab whatever it was and grind it into a fine powder under his heels. 

Carolina looked bad, but Wash looked much worse. Like merely existing was an enormous undertaking and all of his energy had been sucked away from him. Felix had seen many people broken before, most prominently among them Locus, but Wash looked shattered. Like you could pierce his heart with a javelin and he'd barely even notice. 

It was pretty much exactly how Felix wanted Wash to look. Hollowed out and broken it was the exact thing that asshole deserved for how difficult he'd made Felix's life. It was perfect. 

Except it wasn't. 

What should've filled Felix with glee and satisfaction was making him feel hollow and angry, now. 

Because Wash wasn't _just_ supposed to be broken. Felix didn't care as much about the destruction as he cared about being the one doing it. 

He wanted to strangle Tucker with his own bare hands, see the life leave his eyes and take pictures, and send Wash a new one every time it looked like he was getting over it. He wanted to dig a knife into Caboose's empty fucking head and record whatever gurgling sound would constitute his last words, and play it on a loop over every radio frequency on the planet. 

He wanted to kill Grif in front of Simmons or the other way around and savor the begging to spare the others' life. He wanted to shoot Donut in the exact spot where rumor had it Wash had shot him before, and make sure the little pink cockroach stayed dead this time. He wanted to pump Sarge full of buckshot with his own fucking shotgun, and he wanted to blow up every freaking robot the Sim Troopers had ever come in contact with and roast marshmallows over the flames. 

Wanting the Sim Troopers dead was one thing. Seeing that they already were felt like something had been stolen from him. The rug pulled out from underneath him and now where was he supposed to go? 

Wash and Carolina where left, and he could still kill them. They didn't even look like they'd put up much of a fight. 

But that was exactly the problem. Where was the fun in killing someone who'd already lost the will to live? He wanted Wash to suffer, and to a lesser extent Carolina, too, and everything he could do to them now would actually stop them from suffering. 

Felix didn't need to be a psychologist to know that loosing all their friends, again, was destroying them from the inside, torturing them. There wasn't anything he could do to make it worse, so there was no point to him even being here. 

Fucking Sim Troopers. Didn't even have the common fucking decency to stay alive long enough for him to murder them. 

Ignoring the weird knotted feeling in his gut, Felix turned around, ignoring the drone of Vanessa's cheesy speech. 

Maybe Locus would be more courteous.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Goodluckdetective for the prompt! I deviated a bit from it, hope you like it anyway. 
> 
> If anyone else would like to prompt something, hit me up on Tumblr! kyuunonana.tumblr.com   
> I don't have a lot of time this week due to work, but maybe something for fluff week next time?


End file.
